


Emancipation

by chains_archivist



Series: In Search of the Sun by Rushlight [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys in Chains, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Rushlight</p><p>When Obi-Wan reaches the age of independence, he accompanies Qui-Gon on their first mission together. However, not all of the world is as accepting of his relationship with Qui-Gon as he would wish. Sequel to "In Search of the Sun"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emancipation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> eedback: yes, please! Any and all comments welcome. 
> 
> Author's Note: Many heartfelt thanks to Jennie for the *extensive* beta, and for the encouragement I needed to finish this when it threatened to stall on me. This story turned out a lot sharper and altogether more satisfying because of her perceptive comments. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The boyz aren't mine, much as I wish they were. They belong to George Lucas, who is a kind man for creating such a wonderful universe for us all to play in.

Obi-Wan stood on the patio of the estate where he lived with Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and watched the sun rise. The air was cool against his skin, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of the flowers and woods around him. He sighed in contentment as he looked down over the trees and gardens that spread away beneath him in gently sloping increments, divided by the russet paving stones of the front road. After so many years, the view was readily familiar to him, and he enjoyed it as much for its comfortable familiarity as for its beauty.   
  
It was home.   
  
A soft sound behind him made him turn, and he smiled as he saw his master step out through the front door onto the patio. Obi-Wan's eyes trailed over the other man as he came forward to join him at the railing. "Good morning, Master," he said, shivering pleasantly under the warmth of the older man's gaze.   
  
"Good morning, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon slid his arms around his padawan from behind, and Obi-Wan leaned back against him, sighing happily. He tipped his head slightly as Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, the soft beard tickling his skin. Qui-Gon seemed to pick up on his reaction because he deliberately ran his chin over Obi-Wan's skin a second time, tightening his arms around the younger man when he giggled and squirmed.   
  
Obi-Wan turned and nuzzled into the curve of his master's neck, breathing in the heady fragrance of his skin. This scent, like the view of the gardens, was one that he was well-acquainted with.   
  
It awed him that he could feel so comfortable here, inside his master's arms. Obi-Wan still found it hard to believe at times that this man loved him, wanted him, cherished him. It was a miracle that he woke up to anew each day, and he never ceased to be thankful for it. He knew that he was Qui-Gon's padawan, a word that meant "bedslave" in the ancient tongue, but he also knew that he was more. Because Qui-Gon Jinn loved him.   
  
Qui-Gon must have sensed the subdued shiver that passed through him at that thought, because he pulled Obi-Wan away from him slightly so that he could gaze down into the younger man's eyes. He was smiling. "Pleasant thoughts, my padawan?" he said.   
  
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan did not elaborate, knowing that Qui-Gon would understand the direction of his thoughts without having to ask. Obi-Wan had just recently passed his eighteenth Nameday, which marked him as past the age of independence among the Jedi. While still a slave, he would receive a small salary to spend in the city as he pleased, or to save if he so desired. In time, it would be possible to save enough to cover his bond-price, and then he could buy his freedom. Many padawans waited their entire lives to reach this point, to at last have the power to throw off the shackles of the servitude that had bound them since they were children.   
  
But Obi-Wan knew he would never do that.   
  
His feelings for his master were tangled and complex, but at the heart of it all beat a love that was searing in its intensity. No matter what else they may be to each other, Obi-Wan knew that he loved this man, and that this man loved him. There was no place else in the world that he would rather be than here, in Qui-Gon's arms.   
  
He tipped his head back and smiled up at his master, reaching to trail a finger lightly along the line of the older man's jaw. Qui-Gon leaned into the touch with a soft sigh.   
  
"I love you, Master," Obi-Wan whispered.   
  
"As I love you, my Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, and Obi-Wan melted into his embrace, feeling his body respond immediately to the passion of his master's kiss. Qui-Gon smiled, nuzzling his padawan's cheek affectionately. "My passionate Obi-Wan," he murmured. "I'm looking forward to showing you off to the world, my love."   
  
Obi-Wan felt a slow tingle of excitement work through him at the words, mingled with just the faintest touch of fear. Now that he had reached the age of independence, he was allowed to accompany his master on his missions, if his master wished it. Just yesterday, Qui-Gon had been assigned to mediate in a civil dispute in the far-off country of Samilia. A certain portion of the population wanted to secede from the larger whole, and both sides of the dispute had requested Jedi intervention before their disagreements led to full-scale civil war. Tensions were still low between the two parties, however, so Qui-Gon had judged the situation stable enough to bring his padawan with him, if Obi-Wan so desired. Obi-Wan had eagerly agreed.   
  
Even so, Obi-Wan couldn't help being a trifle wary. Until the age of thirteen, his entire life had been lived inside the crèche, located at the heart of the Jedi city of Coruscant. Then, when Qui-Gon had purchased him as his padawan, he had moved here, to the Jedi Master's palatial estate. Obi-Wan had been far from stifled in his upbringing, but he had not experienced much outside of these grounds and the occasional visits to Coruscant.   
  
Qui-Gon's arms were soothing around him. "There's nothing to be afraid of, love. I'll be with you."   
  
Obi-Wan felt a flush of pleasure at the words, feeling completely protected and loved. "I know," he said, snuggling back deeper into Qui-Gon's embrace. His eyes found the riot of vibrant color at the horizon as the sun continued to rise, and his soul seemed to rise with it, carried on a wave of euphoria.   
  
He was ready for this, had waited his entire life to reach the point where he could accompany his master on these excursions.   
  
Nothing could possibly go wrong.   
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan's eyes shone as the carriage pulled out of the front gate, led by a team of four black horses. Qui-Gon watched him through lidded eyes, feeling a familiar stirring inside of him as he saw the blatant happiness in that sea blue gaze. It never ceased to amaze him how easily this boy had become a part of his life, how much he truly commanded his master's affections with a look or a touch or a tender smile. Qui-Gon could not effectively remember a time when Obi-Wan had not been a part of his life, as if he had not truly existed at all until this boy - this man, he corrected himself with a wry grin - had taken control of his heart.   
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan said uncertainly, feeling the weight of his master's gaze. He smiled shyly as he turned away from the window, and Qui-Gon's breath caught at the love he saw displayed in that wide-eyed gaze.   
  
Qui-Gon held out his arm, and Obi-Wan obediently folded against him, lying his back against Qui-Gon's chest. The heat of him seeped through the layers of tunics that they both wore, making Qui-Gon sigh contentedly. He nuzzled into the side of his padawan's neck, inhaling the scent of his skin.   
  
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, catching the lobe of Obi-Wan's ear between his teeth and tugging gently. The resultant shiver that the younger man made was delightfully erotic. Qui-Gon was desperately glad that his padawan was here with him now. He'd always felt as if he were being torn in two when he went on missions, and was forced to leave this tender soul behind.   
  
They talked comfortably throughout the long coach ride, Obi-Wan nestled securely in his master's arms. Qui-Gon pulled a blanket over the two of them when the weather cooled, and Obi-Wan snuggled against him, his breath moist against the older man's neck. Qui-Gon explained what he knew about the Samilian people, outlining their cultural structure, their history, their politics, answering whatever questions the younger man could think of to ask.   
  
Obi-Wan eagerly absorbed it all, although it didn't really matter much to him what Qui-Gon said to him. He only wanted to hear his master's voice, be surrounded by his arms, and enjoy being here with him, embarking on this adventure together for the very first time.   
  
They were received graciously by their hosts when they arrived in Samilia. Obi-Wan was introduced as Qui-Gon's "companion", and he was given the same courtesies as the Jedi ambassador. He was a bit overwhelmed by the grandeur of the palace as they were ushered inside, but he stayed close to Qui-Gon's side and tried to appear as composed as he could. Qui-Gon gave him a small smile as they stepped inside together, and Obi-Wan was comforted by the warmth in his master's gaze.   
  
The leader of the Samilian government was a tall, domineering man by the name of Artzen Talilaeu. His dark eyes raked over Obi-Wan with a knowing air as Qui-Gon introduced him, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but think that despite the discretion of Qui-Gon's greeting, Obi-Wan's purpose here was fairly obvious. The thought made him feel exposed in an unaccustomed way, and he lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling faintly nervous.   
  
The head of the opposing faction was named Lar Richein. He was a much smaller man than his counterpart, slight of build, with curiously shaded copper hair and soft eyes. His gaze focused on Obi-Wan as the other men conversed, and Obi-Wan shivered slightly under the intensity of that bald stare. There was a certain intensive interest in the way this man looked at him that made him very uncomfortable, although he did his best to hide it.   
  
He and Qui-Gon were shown to their rooms then, as the hour was late. The negotiations would not start until the following morning. Obi-Wan carried their luggage up the broad stairway and into the upper halls of the palace, taking in the scene around him with a sense of wonder. Qui-Gon's estate, while undeniably grand, had a subtle, understated beauty to it that relied more on open space and muted accents, mirroring the sweeping vistas of the outdoors. The Samilian palace was exotic and somewhat garish in the way it flaunted the wealth of its people, draped in rich velvets and bright tapestries. It reminded Obi-Wan forcibly that he was in a foreign country, and far from home.   
  
As Obi-Wan began to unpack their clothes, hanging them in the closets that had been put aside for their use, Qui-Gon stretched luxuriously and went to stand in front of the large window against the far wall. The sun had just set, and the sky was that unique shade of violet-blue that heralds the twilight hours. Their suite was on the second floor of the palace, and the window looked out over the rear of the estate, providing a perfect view of the gardens and forests that draped the surrounding hills. It was a scene of carefully cultivated elegance, beautiful and rich and wild, and Qui-Gon luxuriated in the sheer unfamiliarity of it. This was one of the things he loved most about being a Jedi - these first hazy glimpses of a new country, with all of the customs and people and challenges that came with it.   
  
He felt a sense of peace as he turned to watch Obi-Wan putter about the room, arranging their belongings so that they would be readily accessible during their stay here. Qui-Gon's heart swelled with happiness as he took in the sight of his padawan, seeing anew the boy inside the man that he had grown to love. The lamplight caught on the edges of Obi-Wan's hair with a halo of golden radiance, bringing out its reddish highlights as he moved under its caressing touch. Gods, he was beautiful. Qui-Gon felt a burst of overwhelming pride that the rulers here would see this man standing loyally at his side.   
  
Obi-Wan looked up and saw his master gazing at him with heat in his eyes, and he smiled, feeling an answering heat rise inside of him. It was incredible, the things this man could make him feel with nothing more than the caress of his eyes.   
  
"So what do you think of our hosts?" Qui-Gon asked, moving into the middle of the room to better see his padawan's expression. He frowned at the sudden shadow that crossed the younger man's eyes at the question. "Obi-Wan?" he urged, when Obi-Wan hesitated to reply.   
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, standing with one of his master's robes draped between his hands. "It's nothing, Master. Really. I was just a little uncomfortable with the way they looked at me, is all. Especially the New Union representative."   
  
Qui-Gon perched lightly on the edge of the large bed and gestured for Obi-Wan to come to him. Obi-Wan obeyed, dropping the robe carefully over the back of a tall chair, and moved forward to sit on his master's lap. Qui-Gon's arms closed around him, holding him close, and Obi-Wan sighed in contentment at the familiar feel of his master's embrace. Some of the tension drained out of him as he nuzzled in close to the other man's neck, feeling Qui-Gon's beard brush whisper-soft against the skin of his face.   
  
"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing his hand soothingly over the planes of the younger man's back. Obi-Wan melted into the touch, responsive as ever to the touch of his master's hands. "You've led such a sheltered life up until now." It was true. The only people he'd ever had to interact with at any length were Qui-Gon's servants and the Jedi in the city, and the children at the crèche where he had grown up. "You're bound to find your newly expanded world a little frightening, but I beg you not to face it with fear."   
  
"I'll try, Master," Obi-Wan said, trying to draw on the serenity that always seemed to surround his master, as if it were as much a part of him as his eyes or his hair or his skin. His hands clenched in the sleeves of the older man's robe.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled, stroking lightly along the curve of Obi-Wan's jaw. "Also, my love," he said with a faint note of amusement in his voice. "You are very beautiful. You're bound to attract quite a few gazes, and it is something you had better get used to unless you plan on walking around with a bag over your head for the rest of your life."   
  
Obi-Wan laughed, feeling the last clinging tendrils of his tension dissipate. He pulled away from Qui-Gon's embrace enough so that he could gaze up into the other man's face. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks at his master's blatant praise, but he was secretly thrilled by the words. "I'll keep that in mind, Master," he said wryly.   
  
Qui-Gon hugged him tightly. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I want the whole world to see you, and admire you, and know that you're mine."   
  
Obi-Wan returned the hug with abandon, feeling swept away by the love that he felt for this man. Qui-Gon's fingers stroked through the hair at the back of his head in a possessive gesture, and Obi-Wan needed no further urging to tip his head up and meet the heat of his master's kiss.   
  
Around them, Samilia and all of its concurrent troubles faded away to nothing, and there was only the two of them, joined, a single soul swirling away into an influx of light.   
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan, while welcome at the palace, was not allowed access to the actual negotiations. When Qui-Gon went to sit down with the Samilian leaders the following morning, Obi-Wan ventured out to amuse himself in the palace gardens.   
  
The trees here were different than he was used to, their branches darker, more coniferous, and he breathed in the heady scent of them with a sense of anticipation, reveling in the excitement of setting foot in an alien land. He could understand his master's love for this type of work, visiting these exotic climes on a regular basis, seeing the different faces of the world.   
  
He found a fancifully carved stone bench at the side of a green-water pond, sheltered beneath the branches of several dark-leafed trees. The air here smelled faintly spicy, and he breathed it in deeply, savoring the scent of these foreign woods.   
  
It was a surprise when he was joined by Lar Richein, the leader of the New Union faction. It was this splinter group of Samilians who wanted to break away from the rest of their country and claim autonomy, a proposition that was being met by severe disapproval from the main body of the Samilian government.   
  
Obi-Wan felt a tingle of unease as the man approached, but he smiled pleasantly, remembering what Qui-Gon had said about not letting his fears rule him.   
  
"Good morning, Your Excellency," Obi-Wan said, lowering his gaze respectfully as the man sat beside him on the bench.   
  
"Good morning, Obi-Wan. And it's just 'Lar', if you don't mind. I've had enough of 'Your Excellency' to last me a lifetime." He smiled slightly, dipping his head to coax Obi-Wan to meet his gaze.   
  
Obi-Wan raised his eyes slowly, feeling uncertain. "Your role as spokesman for your people does not sit well with you?" he ventured hesitantly.   
  
Lar smiled again, and it was an open, honest expression that lit up the hazel depths of his eyes. "Change is not an easy thing to accomplish, Obi-Wan, no matter how beneficial. Sometimes it comes at great price, and with much sacrifice."   
  
"I ... suppose it does." Obi-Wan shifted his gaze away to stare out over the pond. He couldn't suppress the slow shiver of uneasiness that passed through him, and he pulled his robe a little tighter around him to ward off the chill. "I thought you would be in negotiations with my master this morning."   
  
Lar was silent a moment. "Your ... master," he said after a heavy pause, "is currently speaking with the honorable sovereign Talilaeu." His voice held a wry twist of humor. "He thought it best to discuss matters with each of us individually before beginning the task of coercing us into any compromises. I do not envy your master his job, Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan smiled briefly, appreciating the irony in the words. "I have no doubt that my master will be successful in reaching a settlement that will be beneficial to both your peoples."   
  
Lar tipped his head back slightly, giving Obi-Wan a long, appraising look. "Such perfect faith," he observed with an inexplicable note of melancholy in his voice. "Tell me, Obi-Wan, what exactly is the service that you perform for your master?"   
  
For some reason, the question gave Obi-Wan pause. He fixed his gaze firmly on the flat, unmoving waters of the pond, listening to the faint call of birdsong that sounded from somewhere distant in the wood. The wind blew softly past him, rustling his hair against the skin of his cheek. It felt uncomfortably like a caress.   
  
"I am his padawan," he said at last, wondering why he should suddenly feel so reluctant to say those words.   
  
A leaden silence greeted his statement, and Obi-Wan turned to see something dark flicker across Lar's eyes. Apparently this man knew exactly what the word "padawan" meant, and he did not approve. Obi-Wan shivered.   
  
"Of course you don't know any better," Lar said after a moment, making Obi-Wan feel unaccountably shamed. He smiled sadly. "It's all you've ever known."   
  
"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling inexplicably offended by the observation.   
  
Lar replied, "We of the New Union do not believe in the concept of slavery. It's one of the reasons we wish to secede from Samilia. The government here, like the Jedi, supports the practice of keeping slaves." His expression turned faintly disgusted, as if he found the word distasteful.   
  
Obi-Wan did not know what to say. He felt moved to defend his master. "The Jedi pay excruciating attention to the care of their padawans," he said, hearing the slight edge of defiance in his voice. Trying to tone it down, he added, "We are not allowed to go on missions until we reach the age of independence, so that we are better able to defend ourselves in the world. I'm given a small salary now, and if ever I save up enough to cover my bond-price, I will be able to buy my freedom." He did not mention that he had no intention of ever doing so; such details seemed far too intimate to share with this man. "Qui-Gon treats me very well. You have no cause to worry for my well-being."   
  
Lar's expression was shadowed. "So now you are no longer his bedslave alone, but his whore?"   
  
Obi-Wan blushed darkly, stung by the words. That wasn't what he had meant when he'd said Qui-Gon was paying him. "I-"   
  
Lar held up his hand in immediate apology. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he said. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I know that you've had no choice in what you've become. It's what you were raised to do, and you were never given the chance to realize that you are worth so much more than this life you were sold into."   
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, confused. He wanted to explain that he did not feel worthless when Qui-Gon touched him, held him - on the contrary, he felt as if he was worth more than a universe, cherished and loved. But he could not find the words.   
  
"It's all right, Obi-Wan," Lar said softly, placing his hand over Obi-Wan's where it laid between them on the bench. "You don't have to be ashamed because of what you are."   
  
*But I'm not!* Obi-Wan wanted to scream. He felt sick to his stomach suddenly, and the words he was hearing stung like poisonous barbs inside his mind. Angrily, he pulled his hand away from the other man's touch.   
  
Lar's eyes lowered in silent apology. "I apologize. I know how difficult it must be for you to be ... touched."   
  
Obi-Wan stood up abruptly, feeling angry and lost and more than a little confused. "You don't ... you don't understand." His voice shook when he said it. He could feel tears stinging in the corners of his eyes and fisted his hands at his sides in an effort to hold them back.   
  
"It wasn't my intention to upset you, Obi-Wan." Lar looked honestly repentant. "I just wanted you to know that you are not alone. That there are those of us who care about you, and who sympathize with your ordeal."   
  
Obi-Wan bowed stiffly, trying to remember his place here. This man was his host, and it would not do to behave disrespectfully toward him. "Thank you, Excellency. May I be excused now, please?" He knew that he was overreacting, that he was acting well outside the bounds of courtesy, but he could not bring himself to care.   
  
Lar nodded sadly. "Of course, Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan fled the garden and returned to the palace, going directly to the rooms that he and Qui-Gon shared. Throwing himself down onto the bed, he immediately started to cry, shuddering under the weight of the shamed and guilty feelings that writhed within him.   
  


* * *

  
When Qui-Gon returned to their suite that afternoon, he found Obi-Wan napping on their bed. He paused in the doorway a moment, drinking in the sight of him, admiring the way the slanting sunlight painted the young man's skin with a soft profusion of color, gilding the golden tips of his lashes.   
  
Obi-Wan woke when Qui-Gon sat on the bed next to him, smiling up at him with sleep-hazed eyes. "Hello, Master," he greeted with a soft sigh. "How did the meeting go?"   
  
Qui-Gon ran his hand over the younger man's hair, smiling as Obi-Wan arched up into his touch. "I am hopeful for a swift resolution," he said. "Both parties seem honestly interested in reaching an acceptable compromise."   
  
Obi-Wan felt an uncomfortable tremor of disquiet move through him. He wondered if he should mention his encounter with Lar and bring his master's attention to the innate dislike that the New Union had towards the idea of slavery, but he did not know if it was his place to make such an observation.   
  
Before he could make up his mind about how much he should reveal, Qui-Gon's hand slid down around the side of his face to cup his jaw. "I missed you today," Qui-Gon murmured to him, blunt thumb tracing over the edge of his padawan's cheek. It was the only warning that Obi-Wan had before the older man was kissing him.   
  
Obi-Wan responded eagerly, needing this touch between them. He moaned low in his throat as Qui-Gon's tongue slid into him, and his hands immediately moved to embrace his master's shoulders, pulling the other man down on top of him.   
  
They lay back against the bed without a word, bodies pressed tightly together, and Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's erection rub demandingly against his thigh. His master's intentions were obvious. He felt a familiar thrill of excitement, that Qui-Gon would want him, would love him this way, but then, against his will, he remembered the things that Lar had said to him. Something turned cold deep in the pit of his stomach, even as he continued to respond to Qui-Gon's touches.   
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon panted, sliding his hands down over Obi-Wan's ass and squeezing, arching his hips forward against the younger man's body. His breath was hot against Obi-Wan's face. "You have no idea how absolutely beautiful you are." His hands slid up the length of Obi-Wan's back, stroking deeply, and pressed lightly on the younger man's shoulders. "Go down on me, love," he whispered harshly, his voice rough with arousal. He caught one of Obi-Wan's ears in between his lips and suckled, nipping lightly with his teeth.   
  
Obi-Wan felt a sudden chill. He knew that Qui-Gon would never force him into any kind of intimacy he didn't want, but at the same time, he was achingly aware of his status as Qui-Gon's slave suddenly. What importance did the wishes of a slave have? He wondered what would happen if he were to pull away and tell Qui-Gon that he didn't want to do this right now. With a feeling of trepidation that bordered on nausea, he realized that he didn't want to find out.   
  
He felt numb as he slid down over Qui-Gon's arching body and fumbled at the opening of his master's leggings. Qui-Gon's hands slid through his hair, and soft whimpers of need fell past the older man's lips, his hips rising fluidly into Obi-Wan's touch as his padawan freed his erection from the confines of his pants. "Obi-Wan," he whispered, pressing with one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, pleading with him to continue. "Please..."   
  
Qui-Gon's penis was hard and throbbing in Obi-Wan's hands, soft skin stretched tight over hot steel. Qui-Gon made soft, urgent sounds as Obi-Wan cradled the stiff cock in his hands, stroking it lightly. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took the hard flesh deep into his mouth.   
  
Qui-Gon arched up against him with a low cry, hands tightening in Obi-Wan's hair. It wouldn't take long for him to find his release in this condition. Obi-Wan had learned well over the years what touches his master liked best, and he had no wish to prolong the experience now. Qui-Gon came with a ragged shout and a violent arch of his hips, and Obi-Wan clung to him as he swallowed the bitter flood of his master's pleasure.   
  
It took a few minutes for Qui-Gon to recover. When he did, he pushed Obi-Wan gently back against the pillows and bent down to kiss him deeply. The look in his eyes was heavy and sated, and he smiled tenderly down at his padawan, touching his face lightly. "I love you, Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan choked down a sob, ashamed of his earlier fear, and closed his eyes as Qui-Gon began to move down his body with slow kisses and tender nips, pushing up his padawan's tunic with both hands so he could have access to the skin of Obi-Wan's chest and belly. Obi-Wan undulated under him, dizzy with desire, and his breath caught on a cry as Qui-Gon's lips closed over the head of his aching cock.   
  
Obi-Wan pressed his hips up into Qui-Gon's warm mouth, fingers clawing desperately at the mattress beneath him. Qui-Gon stroked his thumbs deeply into the hollows of Obi-Wan's hips, anchoring him, but he allowed Obi-Wan to make love to his mouth, setting whatever pace he wanted.   
  
Obi-Wan pumped madly into that moist, hot chasm, fisting his hands in the sheets to either side of him, staring blindly up at the ceiling as the sensations washed over him. The pleasure screamed through him, stealing his breath away, and his thoughts narrowed to the bright point of ecstasy between his legs.   
  
"Love you!" he cried as he came, and his entire body convulsed as the orgasm whipped through him, a slave to the passions that Qui-Gon had instigated inside of him. "Love you," he sobbed, as the tremors slowly decreased in intensity, leaving him feeling strangely empty. His eyes closed on an unsteady sigh as he repeated, "Love you, Master. I love you."   
  
Qui-Gon held him as the aftereffects of the orgasm slowly dissipated, petting his back lightly, kissing his hair. Obi-Wan folded into the embrace gladly, almost desperately, thinking only about how good it felt to be in Qui-Gon's arms.   
  
As he lay there panting in his master's embrace, his contentment was dimmed as a memory of Lar's voice arced accusingly through his mind.   
  
*Whore...*   
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan sat beside his master that night at dinner. It felt odd to have someone serve him, and this realization made him irrationally angry for a moment before he took a stranglehold on his emotions and cut them off before they could become a problem. It was a great relief when the meal was concluded, and they all moved into an adjoining sitting room to relax and converse.   
  
Qui-Gon sat in a comfortable chair by the fireplace, gesturing for Obi-Wan to kneel at his feet. Obi-Wan obeyed without a word, sinking to his knees and leaning in close against his master's legs. He kept his gaze firmly affixed to the floor as Qui-Gon's hand moved to ruffle the hair at the back of his head. He could feel Lar's eyes on him without having to look, and he colored slightly under the imagined observation.   
  
Qui-Gon and the other men talked about trivial matters at first, and Obi-Wan ignored the conversation that ebbed and swelled around him. He rested his chin on Qui-Gon's knee and closed his eyes, relaxing into the feel of his master's fingers sliding rhythmically through his hair.   
  
Then the conversation turned to the proposed break between Samilia and the New Union, and one of the Samilian leaders spoke up in a tone that immediately grabbed Obi-Wan's attention.   
  
"Perhaps your servant should leave the room now, Master Jinn, since we are about to begin discussing political matters."   
  
Obi-Wan looked up sharply, stiffening, and flushed darkly. Every eye in the room was fixed on him.   
  
Qui-Gon nudged him gently with his knee. "Go on, Obi-Wan," he said apologetically, trailing his fingers in a light caress along the side of Obi-Wan's neck. "I'll be up in a little while."   
  
Obi-Wan stared. Qui-Gon fully expected him to comply without a word of protest, as if he were a child to go scurrying away at his parent's whim. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of cold fury that his master would belittle him in this way. His fingers clenched into fists as he fought the tide of fury within him, nails cutting into his palms. He felt the heat in his face and shivered in renewed humiliation as he realized that his distress would be evident for everyone in the room to see. He could practically hear the thunderous pounding of his heart.   
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said again, with a note of displeasure in his voice.   
  
It was enough to snap Obi-Wan out of his paralysis. He looked away sharply, unable to stand looking at what he imagined to be pity in his master's eyes. Suddenly unable to contain his anger, he stood and bowed stiffly. "As my master wishes," he ground out, knowing that his tone was rebellious but at the moment too humiliated to care. He caught Lar's eye as he turned to leave the room, and he flushed anew under the New Union representative's sympathetic gaze.   
  
Without waiting for a reply, Obi-Wan left the room and returned to the suite that he and Qui-Gon shared. He sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, shivering.   
  
*What is wrong with me?* his mind demanded furiously, as he fought against the tremors that wracked through him. He had been a slave all his life, and nothing about his situation had changed. But never had he felt so much like property, so insignificant, like a *thing* to be used and put on display and then discarded when his presence became inconvenient. The fact that Qui-Gon had never once done anything to provoke such an attitude in him only made Obi-Wan feel guilty on top of everything else, and compounded his misery.   
  
His gaze moved to the open window, and some of the tension left him as he took in the view outside. The sun had just set, and the gardens were cloaked in a shroud of clinging purple shadows. The sky at the horizon was still touched with a fading blush of color. Somewhere, he could hear a fountain gurgling.   
  
It was such a beautiful, primal scene, and Obi-Wan was struck by the sudden urge to run out and lose himself in it, to shed the chains of the fears and uncertainties that bound him here. Even his love for his master felt suddenly constrictive, as if it was weighing him down, binding him to something that he had not chosen and could not change. For this one moment, all that he wanted was to take his destiny into his own hands and run away from it all.   
  
But of course he could not do that. Obi-Wan's lips curled in a sneer as he pondered that core truth. He was a slave, and his place was here, in his master's bed. He doubted that the Samilians would have much sympathy for him if they caught him wandering around in the gardens after his master had ordered him specifically to retire to their rooms.   
  
Ruthlessly suppressing the core of misery that bubbled and churned inside of him, he lay down on the coverlet of the bed fully clothed and curled up on his side, pillowing his head on his hands. He kept his eyes glued to the window, drinking in the view he was afforded as if it were the elixir of life itself. From this vantage point, all he could see were stars. For some reason, this made him feel even more sorrowful.   
  
He didn't believe that he would be able to fall asleep, but, much to his surprise, he did.   
  


* * *

  
  
He woke what seemed a very short time later to the knowledge that he was no longer in his bed.   
  
The world seemed to be dipping and swaying beneath him in a vaguely restful manner, lulling him when his senses screamed at him to awaken. He tensed, hands fisting in the folds of a voluminous cloak, and moaned faintly, laying his cheek against the hard chest of the man he was curled up against. "Master?" he said quietly, feeling restless and more than a little frightened.   
  
"Shh," a voice answered from somewhere over his head. "Just relax, Obi-Wan. We're almost there."   
  
It wasn't Qui-Gon.   
  
This realization brought Obi-Wan to full wakefulness, and he sat up abruptly, wincing at the pain that shot through his head as he did so. He immediately saw that he was sitting on the back of a horse, in the middle of a small convoy of similar riders, wrapped up in the cloak of the man who rode behind him. The road they traveled down was deserted, and the sky was aflame with a mosaic of shimmering stars, brilliant yet somehow cold in their unearthly beauty. Around them, tall, dark trees seemed to bend in toward the road, domineering and more than a little frightening in their shrouded darkness. There was no sign of the palace.   
  
"What have you done?" Obi-Wan whispered in horror, clutching instinctively at the cloak of the man who held him.   
  
He looked up to see Lar's soft hazel eyes peering down at him, luminous in the dusky shadows that fell shifting around them. The older man tightened his arm around Obi-Wan's waist where it held him and smiled in what was undoubtedly meant to be a reassuring manner, begging Obi-Wan with his eyes to understand. "Please just relax, Obi-Wan," he pleaded softly. "We've gotten you out of the palace, but we're not safe yet."   
  
Obi-Wan placed both palms against the man's chest and pushed, forcing Lar to loosen the hold he had around him. Obi-Wan stared into the other man's eyes in open disbelief. "You abducted me."   
  
"We freed you." There was a hint of steel in Lar's voice, making Obi-Wan shiver. Immediately, Lar's expression softened. "One of the cooks at the palace is sympathetic to our cause. She added a slow-acting sedative to your food at the evening meal. It's completely harmless, I assure you," he added hastily, when he saw the incredulity on Obi-Wan's features. "All it did was help you sleep."   
  
Obi-Wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You drugged me, abducted me, took me away from the palace against my will, and now you're expecting me to ... what? Thank you?" He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.   
  
"We couldn't be certain that you would have come with us of your own free will," Lar said with absolute conviction. "It's been so very long since you've had cause to exercise it. If you ever have."   
  
With a tired sigh, Obi-Wan sank back against the other man's chest, giving up on the argument. "You don't understand anything," he said morosely, rubbing at his eyes.   
  
Lar sighed, a deep exhalation of breath that ruffled the hair at the top of Obi-Wan's head. "Give it time, Obi-Wan," he urged. "You're still thinking like a slave. I understand that it's all you know how to be, but that life is over for you now. You're free."   
  
Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, trying those words out in his mind. *You're free.* They felt strange, alien. He wasn't sure if he liked or disliked the thrill he felt when he heard them.   
  
"My master will come after me," he said after a moment. His heart ached when he thought of Qui-Gon. "And he'll know immediately that it was you who kidnapped me."   
  
"There has been no evidence of ... kidnapping," Lar said with some reluctance. "Your defiance this evening was evident for all to see. There will be no sign of forced entry to your room. Several of the palace servants will remember seeing you slip outside for a walk in the gardens, contrary to your master's wishes. Perhaps you feared reprimand for your actions and fled. Or perhaps some tragedy befell you while you walked; not even the palace grounds are entirely secure in these tumultuous times."   
  
Obi-Wan began to feel ill. "So I'm an escaped slave now." And then, "My master will never believe it."   
  
"It hardly matters what your master believes." Lar's voice was apologetic. "What matters is what the Samilian government accepts as truth. Qui-Gon Jinn is a Jedi first, and a master second. He will finish what he has come here to accomplish, before he makes any effort to pursue you. It gives you some time, Obi-Wan."   
  
"But he will notice your absence."   
  
"Perhaps he will suspect, but he will not accuse. He will deal with my second as faithfully as he would have dealt with me. An urgent messenger arrived at the gates this evening, begging my hasty return to my people. I left immediately. While worthy of note, my absence will not be of any great concern."   
  
Obi-Wan ground his teeth in frustration. "You risk much for a single slave." His voice was bitter.   
  
"It is what we believe in, Obi-Wan." Lar's voice was soft. "I could not in conscience see you forced into another night with that man."   
  
Obi-Wan shivered, closing his eyes and slumping against the hard bulwark of the other man's chest. "It sounds as if I have just traded one master for another."   
  
He felt a sort of mean satisfaction when Lar tensed at his words. It pleased him that the man seemed to have nothing further to say to him after that.   
  


* * *

  
They traveled for nearly three days before coming to one of the villages where Lar and his people lived. It was a small, modest town that boasted nothing of the Samilian palace's grandeur, and yet Obi-Wan found it even more attractive than the capital. He hunched down into Lar's cloak as they passed down the central road, but none of the people he saw seemed to be paying him any undue attention.   
  
"Welcome to Aragosa," Lar said with quiet reverence. "This is a community of free peoples, who have thrown off the bonds of Samilian law. There are no slaves here, Obi-Wan."   
  
"Did you kidnap them, too?" Obi-Wan asked sullenly.   
  
Lar smiled, ignoring the comment. "I'll admit that we are not as prosperous as Samilia, but our people are happy here."   
  
"You make it sound as if you've already succeeded in breaking away from the main country." Despite himself, Obi-Wan couldn't help but look at the faces of the people they passed. They did, indeed, seem happy.   
  
"Oh, but we have." Lar turned his horse into the front courtyard of a small inn and waved at the young stableboy who ran out to take hold of the reins. "In our hearts, we have, Obi-Wan. Here in the New Union, we are all free."   
  
Lar ruffled the hair of the stableboy as he dismounted, and he ushered Obi-Wan ahead of him as he moved up the steps to the low entryway of the building. He gestured that Obi-Wan should take a seat by the window and moved to the low bar at the far wall, presumably to secure rooms for his men.   
  
Obi-Wan tried to be inconspicuous as he waited to Lar to return. He felt very much out of place here. The men who had ridden with them trickled into the building in ones and twos, and he eyed them warily from under his lashes as they passed him by. Obi-Wan had never been without an escort during their time on the road, even when Lar had been occupied elsewhere during their rest breaks. Obi-Wan had found it amusing in a darkly humorous way that he had never in his life felt so much a prisoner as he did now that he was "free".   
  
One of the men caught his eye, and Obi-Wan shivered without knowing why. The man's name was Dram, and he had been a constant presence during the long journey. Even so, Obi-Wan had never quite grown used to him, and he was uncomfortable with the way the man had looked at him. It made Obi-Wan painfully aware of the fact that he had been a slave - a whore, as Lar had so graciously called him - and his shame had deepened with every touch of the man's eyes.   
  
Lar returned to his table then, cutting his thoughts short. The New Union leader set a mug of something chill and dark down on the table in front of him, and Obi-Wan reached for it gratefully, without meeting the other man's eyes. "Thank you."   
  
Lar sat down in the chair across from him and closed his hands around his own mug. "You're welcome." Obi-Wan could feel the appraising look that was raked over him and did his best to ignore it.   
  
A moment later, Lar spoke again. "You don't have to be ashamed to meet my eyes, Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan raised his gaze in response to the challenge and barely concealed his wince at the compassion he saw in the other man's eyes. The worst part of this was that Lar honestly believed he was doing the right thing by taking Obi-Wan away from his master. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he said, dropping his gaze again. His finger traced lightly over the side of his glass, making abstract patterns in the condensation that had gathered there.   
  
Lar sighed. "I'm not surprised that you're having such a hard time with the concept of freedom. It's completely alien to you, and you probably feel very lost and scared right now. I can only assure you that we made the right choice in taking you out of that place, and that you will come to cherish your freedom as much as we do, in time."   
  
"'Freedom?'" Obi-Wan's voice was incredulous. "Is that what you call this?" Suddenly angry, he shoved his drink aside and stared out the window, shaking. "You take me away from the man who raised me, loved me. You turned me into a fugitive, held me against my will, and you have the audacity to preach that you did it *for my own good?*"   
  
"You speak of love," Lar said calmly, refusing to respond to the ire in the younger man's voice. "Was it love to force you into a life of slavery? Into giving over command of your body to another?"   
  
"Qui-Gon never forced me," Obi-Wan said, his voice brittle. "Not once."   
  
"Of course not." Lar's expression was sad. "It's not considered force to demand the obedience of a slave, now is it?" A pause. "Did you ever try to say no to him?"   
  
Obi-Wan felt a scream rise in his throat and struggled to force it down. "Qui-Gon's attentions were never unwelcome to me."   
  
"So you never once tried to defy him. You just accepted it."   
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to fight the wave of confusion that Lar's words invoked in him. "It wasn't like that."   
  
Lar was merciless. "You never even tried to defy him, so you don't really know what he would have done. You were his slave, Obi-Wan, not his lover. No doubt he had some obscure affection for you, as people do towards their favored pets, but you cannot truly believe in your heart that it was love."   
  
Obi-Wan felt tears slide down his cheeks and wiped them away furiously with the back of his hand. He kept his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the wooded view outside the window.   
  
Lar sighed again, leaning forward to touch Obi-Wan's hair gently. "Oh, Obi-Wan," he murmured. "I'm sorry this is so very hard for you. We've taken the step of freeing your body, but only you can free your soul."   
  
Obi-Wan said nothing for a long minute. "I'd like to get some sleep now," he said after a moment, unmoving. "If I'm allowed."   
  
Lar nodded. "Of course. Your room is on the second floor." He paused. "I hope you'll think about what I've said, Obi-Wan."   
  
Wordlessly, Obi-Wan stood up from his chair. Lar slid a small key across the table to him, and Obi-Wan snatched it up without meeting the other man's eyes.   
  
He was still shaking as he climbed up the stairs to his room, and he felt only marginally better once he'd locked the door securely behind him. His mind was strangely blank. He had no doubt that Lar's people would be keeping an eye out for him to insure that he stayed put, so that he wouldn't throw away his "freedom".   
  
The bed was small but comfortable, and despite the late afternoon light that filtered in through the windows, Obi-Wan fell fast asleep.   
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan dreamed.   
  
He had never had anything other than a positive view of his master, and in his mind's eye, Qui-Gon had always been surrounded by a halo of light, an endless repository of kindness and love. Now that vision was shadowed, darkened, and his dreams were filled with uncomfortable imaginings and vague fears.   
  
Did Qui-Gon love him? Was it possible for a master to love his slave? Obi-Wan shuddered in misery as this question played over and over in his mind. What if he had said no to Qui-Gon at some point? Would his master have accepted his wishes? Or would the Jedi Master have demanded the obedience of his slave?   
  
Obi-Wan was woken rudely the next morning by a rough knock on the door. He sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes gingerly, feeling lost for a moment as he struggled to remember where he was. Then the memory returned, and the chill inside of him deepened as he rose to answer the door.   
  
It was Dram. The man was holding a breakfast tray in his hands and looked none too happy about being assigned the duty of delivering it. Obi-Wan shivered under the gaze of those dark eyes, uncomfortably aware of his disheveled state. He had slept in his clothes again, and his face was streaked with dried tears. He must look the epitome of misery, but he could not bring himself to care.   
  
He gestured for Dram to set the tray down on the low table beside the bed. "Thank you," he said, instinctively dropping his gaze to the floor. He remembered Lar's accusation about being afraid to meet people's eyes as an equal, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. A sharp pain arced through his stomach as he caught the smell of the food, reminding him that he had not eaten since midday yesterday.   
  
He realized suddenly that Dram was not leaving the room. Obi-Wan looked up at the larger man, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.   
  
"You liked being a bedslave, didn't you?" Dram said, his eyes hooded.   
  
Obi-Wan shivered. "It's all I ever knew how to be," he relied hesitantly, not wanting to get into this discussion again. He sat on the edge of the bed and started picking through the food that had been brought for him, hoping that Dram would take the hint and leave.   
  
But Dram seemed drawn to him by a sense of morbid curiosity. He moved forward to stand next to Obi-Wan, gazing down at him. "How can you mourn a life like that? Do you really think so little of yourself?"   
  
Obi-Wan bowed his head, his fist clenching on the table in front of him. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?   
  
"I'd like to be by myself for a while," he said sharply, hating that his voice sounded strained when he said it. "If you don't mind."   
  
Dram hovered a moment longer, then nodded. "Sure."   
  
Obi-Wan let out his breath in a gusting sigh after the other man left the room and immediately got up to lock the door again. It didn't escape his notice that his hands were shaking.   
  
"Get a grip, Kenobi," he muttered to himself as he returned to his meal.   
  
He felt the urge to leave his room later that morning, and he took the time to rinse his face and hair in the washbasin against the wall before he went. He'd be damned if he was going to lock himself in here all day. He had never enjoyed being confined, and it rankled on him even more now that he was supposedly "free".   
  
He couldn't help but feel that he was a political game piece, a statement that Lar was making before his people, proof incarnate that their leader wasn't afraid to challenge the Samilian government or even the Jedi for the sake of their independence. No doubt freedom was a powerful motivator for these people, but Obi-Wan's freedom - and his presence here as a visible symbol of the New Union's goals - was somewhat more important than most.   
  
He found Lar sitting in the common room, waiting for him. The New Union leader smiled as Obi-Wan approached. "Good morning, Obi-Wan. I trust you slept well?"   
  
"As well as can be expected, I guess." Obi-Wan didn't care if he sounded trite. It felt rather nice not to have to be obsequious all the time.   
  
Lar nodded his understanding. "I thought you'd prefer taking the morning meal in your room, instead of having to deal with everyone down here."   
  
"Yes. Thank you." Obi-Wan let the gratitude show in his voice. He truly did appreciate the man's perception. His gaze moved to the window, and he felt compelled to ask, "Would you mind if I went out to walk in the woods for a bit?"   
  
Lar hesitated. "I hope you know it's not our intention to hold you against your will, Obi-Wan."   
  
"Of course not. I'm free now." He smiled slightly at the irony of the words. "I'll accept another 'escort' if you feel the need."   
  
"I just want to insure that the bonds holding you to your captivity are completely severed," Lar said, desperate that Obi-Wan understand. "That means protecting you from yourself, until you've had time to come to terms with your new life."   
  
Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Sure. Does that mean I can't go outside?"   
  
Lar hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. "You may go. Please try to stay within sight of the inn."   
  
Obi-Wan heard the words not spoken with perfect clarity - he would be watched. "Thank you," he said, grateful that at least he would be allowed the chance to venture off on his own.   
  
He rose to leave without another word. As he stepped outside, he tipped his head back to look up at the sky. He breathed deeply of the crisp air and tried to forget for the moment the uncertainties that were assailing him. His entire world seemed to have been turned upside down, and now he did not know what to believe about anything. Even his own heart.   
  
Dry needles crunched under his boots as he walked around behind the inn, enjoying the shade of the tall trees that surrounded him. He caught another whiff of that sharply spicy scent that was unique to Samilia, and smiled. This was remarkably peaceable country.   
  
He took care to stay within sight of the inn, not wanting to alarm his hosts into thinking he was attempting to escape his newfound freedom. It felt good to be outdoors again, away from the knowing eyes and pitying glances of these men who sought to help him. They were idealists, and while Obi-Wan resented their interference in his life, he had to admit that he admired their sense of honor and their willingness to take risks for what they believed in.   
  
And were they so far from the truth of things? Obi-Wan's relationship with his master aside, surely slavery could be a deplorable thing. He thought suddenly of the other children in the crèche where he had grown up - had any of them been as lucky as he? It was something he'd never really thought about before. It gave him a chill to think of it; what must it be like for the unwilling ones, the ones who didn't have the fortune to find masters who touched them with love?   
  
Feeling suddenly cold, he pulled his cloak tighter around him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that he had wandered further than he'd intended. The amber-wood walls of the inn were lost from sight behind the trees, although he was certain he could find his way back without difficulty. Even though his mind rebelled against the thought of being held captive in this place, he had no wish to become lost in an unfamiliar country.   
  
His eyes swept over the surrounding woods, and he wondered where the watchers were that Lar had obliquely promised him. Surely he would not be allowed to wander off on his own, not when his heart still yearned so strongly for Qui-Gon. The thought brought a surge of homesickness with it. He missed his master, and all of the tumultuous fears and feelings he suffered from could not change that.   
  
A sudden movement to his left caught Obi-Wan's eye, and he spun to face it. His heart seized as he saw Dram materialize out of the trees. The man's dark hair and eyes made him appear a part of the shadows that surrounded him, as if he were little more than a wraith that had been born of them.   
  
It took Obi-Wan a moment to find his voice. "I was just heading back now," he said. There was a quiver in his voice that he did not like, and he swallowed hard to banish it. "I'm sorry I strayed so far from the inn. I didn't mean to."   
  
"Of course you didn't." Dram moved forward with uncanny silence. There was a sense about the man of danger and depth and a slow, coiling rage, and Obi-Wan shivered as he felt the weight of that fierce regard fall onto him. The small smile Dram favored him with was chilling in a nonspecific way as he reached out to touch Obi-Wan's hair.   
  
Obi-Wan flinched away, his heart pounding. Despite his reaction, there was a sense of inevitability to this encounter that he could not describe. He was positive that it could not be coincidence that it was Dram who had been assigned to follow him.   
  
"You clean up nicely," Dram said with a small smile, trailing a finger down across Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan stared up at him with wide eyes. "I can see why your master would be so taken with you."   
  
Obi-Wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. But neither could he seem to find the wits to pull away. He felt chilled, frozen, as if it was ice water instead of blood that pounded through his veins.   
  
Dram's voice lowered a notch, turning unabashedly intimate. "You really are a beautiful little whore, you know that?"   
  
Hearing those words broke Obi-Wan out of his paralysis. He yanked away from Dram's touch with a feeling of dull panic, clawing at the larger man's chest to shove him away. He cried out as Dram's hand fisted in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him forward again abruptly.   
  
"What's the matter?" Dram sneered at him, black eyes hovering just an inch over Obi-Wan's terror-stricken blue ones. "I thought this was what you were used to, what you were pining away after? Lar risks the entire secession over you, and all you can think about is how much you want to go back to this?" His other hand slid down over Obi-Wan's ass, pulling the younger man's body tightly against his. "Does this feel more like home to you?"   
  
Obi-Wan was terrified to feel the erection pressing against his lower stomach through the layers of their clothes. He was stunned by the other man's anger. It had never occurred to him that there might be those who disagreed with Lar's decision to free him, who might object to the political ramifications of his sudden inclusion in the life of their village. He struggled against Dram's hold on him, turning his face away from the heated caress of the man's breath, and felt the cold inside of him deepen.   
  
"Please," he whispered, struggling to free himself from other man's grip. "Don't do this."   
  
The blow came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of him when he fell to the ground. Obi-Wan landed hard on his shoulder and rolled slightly to absorb the impact, wincing at the unexpected pain. He cried out as his body was abruptly pinned beneath the weight of the larger man.   
  
A thick hand closed over his mouth, and Obi-Wan stared up at his assailant, panic-stricken, struggling to breathe through his nose. Dram's breath was hot on his face. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears slide out between his quivering lashes. He had never felt so terrified in his life, so completely overwhelmed and vulnerable to another's whims.   
  
He lay there, crying, as Dram's other hand slid between their bodies to caress the flesh between his legs. Obi-Wan's hips bucked involuntarily, and he screamed low in his throat when Dram pulled open the laces of his leggings, pushing futilely at the weight that held him down.   
  
"Is this what you want?" Dram murmured to him, bending down to rub his stubbled cheek against Obi-Wan's. "Is this what you laid in bed dreaming about last night, while the rest of us couldn't sleep because all we could think about was retribution from the capital? Do you have any idea what Lar risked to free you?"   
  
Obi-Wan felt himself go numb under the other man's touches. His mind kept insisting that this was a nightmare, that it couldn't be happening, but it *was* happening, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And somehow, through his terror, through his revulsion, a small, intrusive voice in his mind insisted that he didn't have the right to fight it. Because Dram was absolutely right - Obi-Wan *was* a whore, a shameless pleasure slave in love with his master, and perhaps he didn't deserve anything more in life than this, to be desired, to be used, and when had he ever believed that he was entitled to anything more?   
  
A moment later, his thoughts turned to Qui-Gon, clinging to the most powerful memories he had to distance himself from this current horror. He thought about the way Qui-Gon had held him, and made love to him, and it hadn't been anything like this. Qui-Gon had never touched him with anything other than gentleness and respect, had never made him feel anything other than cherished, as if the world itself was nothing compared to the time the two of them spent together. Never once had Qui-Gon made him feel ashamed, or used, or hurt him in any way.   
  
With a sudden surge of anger, Obi-Wan twisted under Dram's crushing weight, sinking his teeth into the fleshy side of the man's hand when it slipped down over his mouth. Dram let out a hoarse yell and jerked his hand back, and Obi-Wan took advantage of his distraction by shoving the man off of him and sliding back across the leaf-strewn ground, pulling his robe closed around him.   
  
Dram's eyes were furious as he cradled his injured hand in against his chest. "Slut," he spat out, shaking in his anger, and took a half-step forward.   
  
Obi-Wan skittered backwards, not taking his eyes from the man. "I'll tell Lar what you did," he threatened, his voice shaking. "I'll tell him you tried to rape me." His fingers were white-knuckled where they held his robe closed across his chest. The threat sounded lame even to him, but it was the only weapon he had.   
  
Dram sneered. "Who's he going to believe? Me, or the homesick pleasure slave? As far as I'm concerned, you waylaid me in the woods and asked me to console you over the loss of your master."   
  
Obi-Wan felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. There was no reason for Lar to believe him. Even as the rational part of his brain insisted that Lar would be fair, would know that he wouldn't have done such a thing, the fear remained. His vision blurred as he considered the ramifications of it.   
  
He almost missed it when Dram started to move, but he managed to avoid the other man's lunge and immediately wheeled to run. Dram's hand closed around his arm, but before he could be borne to the ground again, Obi-Wan brought up his knee in a purely instinctual blow to the bigger man's solar plexus. Dram let go of his arm immediately, stunned, and Obi-Wan hit him hard across the side of the head.   
  
Dram went down, and Obi-Wan ran. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes, but he didn't stop to get his bearings. The trees whipped by him in a smudgy blur as he ran, and ran, until finally, he collapsed breathless against the side of a tree.   
  
He looked back over his shoulder immediately, tensed to fight or flight, but there was no movement that he could see other than the muted shiver of the branches in the breeze. Around him, the woods were eerily silent.   
  
Still feeling numb, Obi-Wan fumbled to retie the clasps of his clothing, trying to forget the insistent memory of the other man's touch. Once that was done, he stumbled toward a fallen tree trunk and sat heavily, burying his head in his hands. It took several minutes for him to get his breathing under control, and he straightened, deliberately wiping the tears away from his eyes as he took in the scene around him.   
  
What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go to Lar; who would ever believe that a member of this supposed New Union had tried to rape him? Obi-Wan was only a common bedslave, and all of Lar's protestations to the contrary would not help the man treat him any differently.   
  
He certainly couldn't stay in Aragosa any longer, not knowing that Dram was there waiting for him. Not knowing what they all thought of him. The thought filled Obi-Wan with a sense of biting despair. He was lost in the middle of a foreign country, without friend or guide, and he had no idea whatsoever how to get back to the palace where his master was waiting for him.   
  
It surprised him to realize that he still wanted to go back to Qui-Gon, although he wasn't sure why it should. His love for his master still burned brightly within him, undimmed by all of Lar's well-meaning arguments about ownership and masterly affection. What it all boiled down to was the fact that Obi-Wan was in love with Qui-Gon, and that he believed Qui-Gon loved him. He was never happier than when he was by his master's side, and he felt as if a piece of himself was missing when they were apart. Perhaps Lar's motives were good, but it didn't mean that he was right in every instance.   
  
His decision made, Obi-Wan stood and started off into the woods.   
  


* * *

  
Qui-Gon did not turn as the servant brought him his tray. After a heartbeat's pause, he heard the subdued clatter as the slave set it down on the low table beside him. Immediately, the tantalizing smells of spiced veal and fresh-baked bread assailed him, and his stomach rumbled faintly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in quite some time.   
  
A soft step behind him alerted him that he was not alone. "Truly, Master Jinn, my soldiers are doing all that is in their power to locate your missing slave."   
  
Qui-Gon shifted slightly, narrowing his eyes at the view that stretched away in front of him. Outside the wide window was a spreading vista of unfathomable beauty - dark woods arranged like a thick carpet over the surrounding hills, ornamented with tendrils of morning mist. The sight of it made him feel cold inside.   
  
"I am aware of that, Sovereign," he said quietly, without turning his head.   
  
There was a small pause, and then Artzen Talilaeu stepped up beside him. The man's short, dark beard looked especially severe on his sharply delineated face.   
  
"I, too, have lost slaves that were dear to me," the Samilian leader said slowly, as if unsure how his words would be received by the Jedi. "It happens, at times. Who is to say who's at fault? We can blame them, for rebelling against our rule, but truly we share an equal blame, for becoming complacent in our love for them. We take them for granted, and then one day they are gone. They do not understand the love that we bear for them."   
  
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. It was unthinkable to even consider that Obi-Wan did not know he was loved, that he was cherished. And yet, Qui-Gon had to admit that he had treated the boy as little more than the slave that he was since they'd arrived in Samilia. This realization rankled in him, leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth.   
  
He desperately hoped that Obi-Wan was safe. Wherever he was, the boy had absolutely no experience in dealing with the world, and Qui-Gon despaired that there would be those who would be all too willing to take advantage of his padawan's innocence. The thought that Obi-Wan might be exploited, abused, made Qui-Gon almost blind with a seething, impotent rage.   
  
But of course his features showed nothing. Qui-Gon was a Jedi first and foremost, above everything else in this life that held meaning for him. To run off after Obi-Wan now would place these two opposing factions into the risk of civil war, and that was something that Qui-Gon's conscience would not let him do. Not even for Obi-Wan.   
  
His helplessness choked him. *Be safe, my dear one,* he thought, hoping that somehow, his wishes for his padawan's continued safety and well-being would be heard and obeyed. The vision of the landscape before him turned brittle as glass before Qui-Gon's weary eyes, as if he could reach out and shatter it with a single touch, if he so desired.   
  
He refused to believe that Obi-Wan had chosen to leave him. It was something that his heart could not accept, and he clung to that hope in desperate self-preservation, knowing he would be lost to the whirlwind without it.   
  
After the negotiations here were concluded, he would go out in search of his padawan, and he would not stop until he had found him. Let Obi-Wan tell him to his face that he no longer wanted Qui-Gon to be his master. Then Qui-Gon would believe it, however much it pained him. But not until.   
  
*I love you, Obi-Wan,* he sent out into that brittle landscape of air and earth, choosing to believe that somewhere, somehow, his padawan would hear and understand.   
  
Deliberately schooling his thoughts to silence, he turned away from the window and turned to face Artzen Talilaeu. It was time for the negotiations to continue.   
  


* * *

  
The sun had just dipped down below the level of the treetops when Obi-Wan came to a tavern at the edge of the forest, framed on two sides by a crossroads that looked fairly well-traveled to his weary eyes. The air was chilled now with night's approach, and he shivered inside his thin robe. He had been walking for the better part of the day, not daring to rest for fear of running into any of Lar's people, and he was exhausted.   
  
A sign set up in front of the tavern proclaimed it "The Inn of the Hunted Lord". This seemed to fit Obi-Wan's mood perfectly, and he slipped inside as casually as he could, appropriating an out-of-the-way table beside the fire.   
  
The tavern was crowded on this autumn night, and Obi-Wan hunched down inside the folds of his robe as he surveyed the busy patrons around him. The fire felt good, its heat seeping swiftly into his chilled skin, so that he felt almost uncomfortably warm on his forward-facing side and chilled on the other. No one seemed to be paying him any undue attention, and for this he was grateful.   
  
A sturdy barmaid approached him and asked if he wanted anything to drink. Obi-Wan replied with a small shake of his head. "I don't have any money," he said, wanting to discourage her from approaching him again. "I just wanted to sit by the fire for a moment. I won't stay long."   
  
To his relief, she left him alone then, and he sank back into his chair to stare morosely into the fire. He didn't know how he was going to find Qui-Gon without asking for directions to the Samilian capital, but he was afraid to do anything that would draw attention to himself.   
  
He tensed as a dark shadow fell across him and glanced up sharply to see a tall, red-haired man standing beside his chair. The man was slim yet solidly built, his features almost fox-like in the incandescent firelight. He sat down in the chair across from Obi-Wan and smiled.   
  
"Hi," the stranger said in a friendly tone. "My name's Alun."   
  
Obi-Wan watched him warily, pulling his robe tighter around himself. His heart rate increased as he took note of the man's proximity.   
  
"I couldn't help but overhear that you don't have any money," Alun said. "That probably means that you don't have a place to stay tonight."   
  
Obi-Wan felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest, but still he said nothing.   
  
Alun was not discouraged at all by his silence. He leaned forward slightly, holding Obi-Wan's gaze. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in making a few coins tonight, would you?" His hand fell onto Obi-Wan's knee, stroking lightly.   
  
Obi-Wan pulled his knee away, glowering. "No, thank you."   
  
To Obi-Wan's dismay, the man didn't seem at all put out by his lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, come on," Alun said with a knowing smile, lowering his voice slightly. "A pretty thing like you should be used to getting these kinds of offers. You look like you haven't slept in a while. Haven't eaten. You been on the road for a while, kid?"   
  
Obi-Wan turned away, unresponsive, his heart thudding in his chest. Was this always destined to happen to him, wherever he went? Was this all that people saw when they looked at him? Was he truly nothing more than a hole to fuck, a body to warm beds with? He felt ill at the thought.   
  
"You look like you're on the run from somewhere," Alun said to him, lowering his voice even further. Obi-Wan's skin crawled at the suggested intimacy of his tone. "You wouldn't happen to be an escaped slave, now would you?"   
  
Obi-Wan's head snapped back around at that. He glared, hating the self-satisfied smirk that flitted across the man's face.   
  
While Obi-Wan didn't exactly fear the Samilian authorities, he was terrified of falling back into the hands of the New Union. He doubted that Dram was the only one to resent his presence here, and he expected that his pursuers would be willing to do almost anything to insure that he didn't return to the capital to accuse them of kidnapping, coercion, and attempted rape. Maybe they would even kill him.   
  
"Come on, kid," Alun urged, touching Obi-Wan's knee again lightly. This time, Obi-Wan didn't pull away. "Come upstairs with me and we'll see what I can do to help you."   
  
"And if I don't?" Obi-Wan whispered, closing his eyes. He already knew the answer to that question, however - he would be turned in to the authorities as an escaped slave. And then Lar's minions would find him. A single tear escaped from between his lashes and trickled down his cheek.   
  
Alun caressed Obi-Wan's knee in a smooth, seductive motion. "Well," he said reluctantly, "I'll just let your imagination deal with that one. But I don't think it's something we need to talk about, now do we?" His voice was soft.   
  
He stood up slowly then, pulling Obi-Wan up beside him. Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, and Alun wiped his tears away with a light touch. Obi-Wan trembled under the gentle pressure of the man's fingers.   
  
"Come on," Alun said softly, smoothing his hand over Obi-Wan's hair. "It's not that bad."   
  
When Alun turned to leave, Obi-Wan stood there frozen a moment, holding his robe tightly around him. No one was forcing him to go with this man. He could just turn and leave, right now, and take fate as it came. But he was tired, and hungry, and he needed someone's help if he was ever going to find Qui-Gon. *Whore,* his mind whispered to him in Lar's voice.   
  
Taking a deep, shuddering breath to help still his tears, Obi-Wan turned and followed Alun upstairs.   
  


* * *

  
The room that Alun led him to was small but well-furnished, with a comfortable-looking bed, a diminutive wardrobe closet with an attached mirror, and a low table with two chairs. The floor was smooth and well-polished, its center covered by a bright, oval rug.   
  
Obi-Wan stood frozen at the threshold of the room, trying to fight the violent tremors that wanted to wrack through him. The only light in the room came from a small candle on the bedside table. Outside the single window, all was dark, and the square pane of glass reflected the interior of the room in watery outlines.   
  
Alun had removed his cloak and thrown it over one of the chairs. His tunic was a deep creme, and it accented the redness of his hair to good advantage. His eyes were bright and eager as he turned to face Obi-Wan, and there was something almost predatory about them that made the younger man shiver. Dark and grey, they glittered in the light of the candle.   
  
Fox-eyes, Obi-Wan couldn't help but think. A chill passed through him, and his gaze dropped to the man's slender hands. He shuddered suddenly under the memory of other hands, less graceful but no more welcome in their intentions against him.   
  
"Come in," Alun urged. His voice was low and smooth, as if he were attempting to coax a wild animal. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?"   
  
Obi-Wan found himself responding to the enticement in that voice without his conscious will. He was two steps into the room before he was even aware of what he was doing, and he had to force himself to stop.   
  
"No," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.   
  
Alun took a slow step forward, mistaking Obi-Wan's reaction. "I'll bet I'm more gentle than a lot of the other lovers you've had lately." His voice was smooth and seductive. "Come on, kid. At least tell me your name."   
  
Obi-Wan almost laughed aloud at the assumption the other man was making. 'Other lovers?' Was that all anyone ever thought when they looked at him, that he was a whore? What did they see in him that he was missing?   
  
"No," he said again, more forcefully this time. His heart was thudding in his chest.   
  
This time, Alun caught the edge of steel hidden beneath the word and frowned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Think about this, kid," he said softly, giving Obi-Wan a level stare. "I'm willing to help you out here, but you're going to have to help me, too. Once you walk out that door, you're on your own again."   
  
Obi-Wan felt a surge of unexpected anger that Alun believed he could be manipulated in this way. Despite the fear that was strung through every cell in his body, Obi-Wan knew that he could not do this, no matter what the consequences. It seemed that the only power he had left to him was to determine who would be allowed to touch his body, and he could not surrender that power without giving up some vital part of himself. He was not a whore, no matter what anyone else might think of him.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said, blotting his palms against his robe and trying to ignore the wild fear that twisted and writhed within him. "I ... I thought I could do this. But I can't." Throwing his pride to the wind, he suddenly raised his gaze and met Alun's eyes squarely. "I need to get to the Samilian capital," he said, painfully aware of the desperation in his voice. "To the palace. Please, help me."   
  
Alun looked intrigued. "The capital, huh?" The predatory air was still prevalent about him, but now it was chased by a new emotion - curiosity. He perched one hip on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. "I don't know too many escaped slaves who want to go there."   
  
Obi-Wan wondered how many poor, lost souls Alun had made this exact offer to. The thought made him angry, and he met the other man's gaze coldly.   
  
"I'm not an escaped slave," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I am padawan to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, of the Jedi Knights of Coruscant. I was ... stolen," - his voice faltered on the word - "as a political ploy in the ongoing secession negotiations between Samilia and the New Union."   
  
Alun's eyebrows hovered somewhere along the level of his hairline. "A Jedi padawan." He laughed shortly, looking vaguely disgruntled. He looked away suddenly, wiping his palms along the front of his tunic. "Fuck, your master'd probably have my hands cut off just for touching you."   
  
Obi-Wan frowned, wondering at this attitude that seemed to be so prevalent about the Jedi. Even Lar had been certain that Obi-Wan was being abused, simply because he was a Jedi padawan.   
  
"Help me," he said, putting his other concerns aside for the time being. He took a slow step into the room, letting the earnestness he felt show in his eyes. "Please, Alun. All I want is to return to my master." He paused. "I'm sure you'll be well-rewarded."   
  
Alun licked his lips, and the muted glitter of his dark grey eyes turned pointedly entrepreneurial as his gaze swept over Obi-Wan's dark-robed form. "You'll tell him that I helped you? That I didn't lay a hand on you?"   
  
Obi-Wan nodded, wondering again at the fear that the name of the Jedi could provoke. Qui-Gon had been right - Obi-Wan *was* an innocent, and he knew absolutely nothing about the workings of the world. Or even about his own people, it seemed.   
  
"Do we have a deal, then?" he asked, surprised at his own audacity in proposing this bargain between them. It felt strange, to take command of his own destiny in this way. He found, not surprisingly, that he liked it.   
  
Alun regarded him cagily for a long moment. Then he nodded.   
  
"Sure," he said with a note of finality, as if they had just closed a business transaction. "We have a deal."   
  


* * *

  
Alun reined in his horse at the edge of the city and paused at the crest of the road, staring down at the palace that sat like a glittering gem in the heart of the valley. "That what you were looking for, kid?"   
  
Obi-Wan's heart leapt when he saw the familiar citadel. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, silhouetted against the morning light. "Yes," he breathed, tightening his hands around the saddle horn in front of him and leaning forward eagerly, devouring the sight with his eyes. "That's what I was looking for."   
  
Alun prodded their mare's sides sharply with his heels, leg muscles tensing against the backs of Obi-Wan's thighs. His arm tightened around Obi-Wan's waist as the animal broke into a rapid trot, holding Obi-Wan solidly against him as they made their way down the slope of the road toward the distant sparkle of the palace gates.   
  
Now that he was actually here, Obi-Wan was terrified. He didn't know what he was going to say to Qui-Gon, or how his master was going to react to his padawan's sudden reappearance. For the first time, Obi-Wan realized that he was really and truly free. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything, without fear of censure or having to worry about what anyone thought of him. The thought was vaguely terrifying in its power, and he felt light-headed, torn as he pondered the implications of it.   
  
And yet, there was really no question of what he would do. Now that he was truly free for the first time in his life, with a world of choices spread out in front of him, there was only one possibility that called out to him. His feet would only take him in one direction, and that direction was back to the man that he loved.   
  
If Qui-Gon would have him.   
  
The road to the palace was virtually deserted, and the few passersby that they saw did not bother them. The soldiers who stood watch behind the gate were dressed in glittering silver armor, decorated with the whorls and delicately engraved crest of the Samilian infantry. There was a flurry of activity among the guards once Obi-Wan identified himself, and a runner was dispatched immediately to the palace.   
  
Obi-Wan waited tensely, patting absently at the side of the mare's neck in front of him. Her skin was soft velvet under his palm, warm and vibrant. The mare's coat was almost the exact color of the tall spikes that adorned the tops of the palace gates, dusky grey fading to dun in the rising sunlight. She whuffed softly in acknowledgment of his attentions and cocked her ear back at him curiously.   
  
After what seemed a small eternity, the gates were opened. Obi-Wan and Alun were asked to dismount, and then they were led under guard up the narrow road to the palace. Obi-Wan felt like a prisoner as the soldiers standing watch at the gate took him under custody, but he did not protest their treatment of him as they escorted him to the palace. He had grown accustomed to such an attitude during his years as a slave, to the casual degradation of being regarded as property, but now he seemed hyperaware of each dismissing gesture and disrespecting glance that was cast his way. Despite his desire to keep his thoughts calm, it rankled on him.   
  
They were held under guard in the main foyer of the palace while Obi-Wan's master was summoned. The room was huge, its gilded ceiling inlaid with glittering mosaics several stories above them. The artwork and tapestries that decorated the room were even more garish than Obi-Wan remembered, and he found it even less pleasing than the first time he had been here.   
  
He waited tersely, trying to control the rapid pounding of his heart. A brief glance at Alun showed Obi-Wan that his companion was as nervous as he was.   
  
There was a subdued agitation outside in the hall, and Obi-Wan froze, feeling a sudden and inexplicable reluctance to have this confrontation. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to raise his gaze.   
  
Qui-Gon stood framed in the wide doorway, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion that defied definition as he stared at his estranged padawan. His face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion it showed, but tension fairly radiated out of his tall frame.   
  
The sudden silence in the room was palpable. With seeming effort, the Jedi Master tore his gaze away from Obi-Wan to stare at Alun. Immediately, something in his expression darkened.   
  
"Master." Obi-Wan took a half-step forward, reclaiming Qui-Gon's attention. He kept his voice low and respectful, but he did not lower his gaze. "I was kidnapped out of the palace a week ago by ... insurrectionists who wanted to upset the negotiations between Samilia and the New Union."   
  
The lie galled him, but he could not bring himself to betray Lar's involvement in his abduction. No matter what Obi-Wan's personal feelings towards certain members of the New Union may be, he believed that their cause was just. Their people deserved the chance to pursue independence on their own terms, without outside influence from Samilia or the Jedi.   
  
"I managed to escape," Obi-Wan continued, without letting his inner turmoil show, "and this man helped me return to the capital. I would never have made it here without him."   
  
Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan's gaze for a long minute, then glanced at Alun again. Alun blanched beneath the heavy, appraising stare, but he held his ground.   
  
Finally, Qui-Gon nodded at the guard who stood nearest to him. "See that this man is suitably rewarded, Captain. And then escort my padawan to my quarters." Without another word, he turned with a swirl of his voluminous robe and left the room.   
  
Obi-Wan felt chilled. He stood unmoving as the captain of the guard sent a runner to delve into the palace coffers. When the man returned, he carried a black velvet pouch that clinked tantalizingly when he held it out to Alun. Alun accepted it with a long glance at Obi-Wan, and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he opened it and caught sight of the muted glitter of gold within.   
  
Obi-Wan nearly laughed aloud. It seemed that the guards here were well aware of the market value of a Jedi padawan.   
  
Alun took his leave of the palace then, and he met Obi-Wan's eyes with a subdued smile while he waited for the guards to open the door. His eyes gleamed with an almost child-like excitement as he clutched the small pouch close to his chest.   
  
"Bye, Obi-Wan," he said, sounding for a moment as if he would truly miss the younger man's company. His eyes flickered toward the archway where Qui-Gon had disappeared. "Good luck."   
  
Obi-Wan smiled in farewell as the guards came forward to lead Alun away. He was desperately grateful when the man was gone.   
  
The captain gestured for Obi-Wan to proceed him toward the elegant staircase that swept upwards at the far side of the foyer, and Obi-Wan submitted with a slight bow of his head. Keeping his hands folded serenely inside the sleeves of his robe, he kept his gaze affixed on the steps in front of him as he ascended.   
  
He was left alone in the suite that he and Qui-Gon had shared. Had it only been a week ago? It felt like a lifetime, and Obi-Wan let out a weary sigh as the captain ushered him inside and then locked the door behind him. All was exactly as he had left it, and he stifled a sob as he took in the familiar sense of his master that hung like a lingering fragrance in the room. Feeling strangely numb, he moved forward to stand at the window, and his hands clenched white-knuckled around the windowsill as he waited for his master to return.   
  
A soft noise behind him made him turn. Qui-Gon stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes dark and fathomless as he took in his padawan's bedraggled appearance. Obi-Wan's eyes drank in the sight of him greedily for a moment, feeling his heart pound in mixed joy and terror as he met that unfathomable gaze. He shivered as he felt his master's hard gaze rake over him, and he lowered his eyes quickly, feeling the numbness inside of him spread.   
  
Without a word, Qui-Gon swept into the room and pulled Obi-Wan into his arms. Obi-Wan flinched, half-expecting to be met with anger, but Qui-Gon's arms were unexpectedly gentle as they slid around him, crushing his body tightly to the taller man's frame. Qui-Gon buried his face against his padawan's neck, and Obi-Wan collapsed against him, stifling a sob against his master's chest.   
  
It took him a moment to realize that Qui-Gon was shaking, and another moment after that to realize that his master was making a soft, almost inaudible keening noise into his hair. Obi-Wan instinctively wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, squeezing him tightly, and felt Qui-Gon rock forward against him, the grip around him tightening.   
  
"I thought I had lost you," Qui-Gon whispered, his hands moving to cup Obi-Wan's face. He pulled back far enough to look down into Obi-Wan's eyes, rubbing his thumbs lightly over the younger man's cheeks. The expression in his eyes was haunted.   
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. He felt his eyes well up with tears and turned his head away sharply, angry at himself for crying. When Qui-Gon gently turned his face back to look at him, Obi-Wan wiped at his cheeks with the back of one hand and forced a small smile. "I have been doing far too much of this lately."   
  
Qui-Gon's expression darkened at those words, and Obi-Wan stiffened involuntarily, fearing that he had incurred his master's displeasure. But then Qui-Gon bent to slide one arm around the backs of Obi-Wan's knees, tightening the other around his shoulders, and before Obi-Wan knew what was happening, he was being lifted off the ground and hugged tightly against Qui-Gon's chest. He slipped his arms around his master's neck and held on tightly, feeling dizzy at the sudden movement.   
  
He made a small sound of protest as Qui-Gon carried him into the adjoining bath, but Qui-Gon ignored him. He set Obi-Wan down carefully on the carpet and then moved to start the water running into the large tub, testing the temperature of the water with the flat of his hand and adjusting it until a fine cloud of steam began to rise into the room. Then he turned to Obi-Wan again, and the strained lines between his eyes deepened.   
  
Obi-Wan stayed silent as Qui-Gon undressed him. His master's fingers were light as they moved over his body, shedding his clothes with quick efficiency and setting them aside. Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, ashamed of his nudity suddenly, but Qui-Gon's touch was coldly clinical as it moved over him, inspecting him for injury and cataloguing each of the small hurts that Obi-Wan had incurred during his time on the road.   
  
Obi-Wan's skin crawled under the wordless appraisal in his master's eyes. He kept his own gaze fixed firmly on the floor between his feet, desperately wishing that he knew what his master was thinking. Did Qui-Gon feel anger when he looked at him? Disgust? Disappointment? Did he believe that Obi-Wan had given himself to another? Or, worse still, did he feel nothing? That thought chilled him most of all.   
  
Qui-Gon's fingers brushed lightly across Obi-Wan's left cheekbone, tracing the fading bruise where Dram had struck him. Obi-Wan looked up, startled by the gentleness of the touch, and felt his mouth go dry when he saw the depth of emotion that churned in the other man's eyes.   
  
"Who hit you?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice low.   
  
Obi-Wan trembled under the subdued anger he heard in the words. He held his master's gaze with wide eyes, unable to speak.   
  
Immediately, something harsh and primal chased across Qui-Gon's eyes. He picked Obi-Wan up bodily and lowered him into the bathtub, without waiting for a reply to his question. Obi-Wan hissed as his body was immersed in the hot water, but he made no other protest as Qui-Gon knelt beside him, reaching for a washrag and a cake of soap to begin washing him. Obi-Wan was surprised to see that the older man's hands were shaking.   
  
"Master..." he managed to say at last, forcing the word out past dry lips.   
  
"Hush, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon interrupted him. Although his voice shook, it sounded unbearably gentle. "Let me do this for you."   
  
The gentleness in those words completely undid him. Obi-Wan felt tears sting his eyes as Qui-Gon proceeded to scrub him clean. Despite his fears, Qui-Gon handled him as if he were something of infinite worth, something fragile and wonderful that would break with the slightest mishandling. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax under the soothing caress of the big man's hands.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to stand the silence between them any longer.   
  
He felt the shudder that moved through Qui-Gon when he said it. After a moment, Qui-Gon said, "I am just glad to have you back with me again, my love." The endearment made Obi-Wan flinch despite himself. Softly, Qui-Gon asked, "Will you tell me what happened?"   
  
"I was kidnapped," Obi-Wan said quietly, hearing the unspoken pain in his master's expectant silence. He kept his gaze firmly affixed on the slow swirls of the water in front of him. "By someone who has an interest in freeing oppressed slaves. He did me no harm, Master."   
  
There was a heartbeat's pause as Qui-Gon considered the implications of this. "Was it someone you knew?"   
  
Obi-Wan froze, remembering the expectant, hopeful gazes that had greeted Lar Richein as he rode into Aragosa. Each of those people had faith that their leaders would insure their independence, that they would someday be able to venture forth and make their own way in the world, without Samilian interference. The very last thing they needed was the enmity of the Jedi.   
  
The silence between them grew to an almost unbearable intensity before he found the breath to respond. "No," he whispered.   
  
He met Qui-Gon's gaze then and saw the understanding there. The pain in those eyes was terrible to see. "And did you feel oppressed, Obi-Wan? Did you feel that I was holding you here against your will?"   
  
Obi-Wan felt something cold twist deep inside his stomach, but he refused to look away from his master's gaze. "No, Master," he said, feeling a deep ache spread through him, and it was a worse pain than anything he had ever felt before in his life. "All I could think of was how much I wanted to return to you. But they wouldn't listen. They didn't understand, Master. They thought they were doing good."   
  
Obi-Wan was horrified to see the faint glimmer of tears in his master's eyes. Qui-Gon turned his head away sharply, the struggle to keep his emotions under control obvious in the lines of his face. Obi-Wan ached to reach out and comfort him, but he didn't dare.   
  
"There's more," Obi-Wan said, hating himself for saying it but knowing that he would never be able to live with himself if he did not. The memory of the doubts and fears that had plagued him during his time in Aragosa was eating away at him, demanding absolution. "When I escaped from ... the kidnappers ... I realized that I had no way of returning to you on my own. I found solace at an inn, but I had no money. That's where Alun found me. He offered to help me, but I..." He trailed off, unable to say the words.   
  
A tremor passed through Qui-Gon's shoulders, and his expression turned completely impassive, shielding his emotions away behind the mask of serenity that he utilized so well. A single tear broke free of his lashes and trickled down the skin of his cheek, moistening the upper edge of his beard. "He used you." The words were a harsh whisper.   
  
Obi-Wan winced as if he had been struck. "No, Master," he said softly. Around him, the water was starting to cool, leeching the heat from his body. He could not meet his master's eyes. "But he ... he wanted to. And I couldn't help but think that it was all I'm good for, to be desired in that way. I mean, I know that I'm your padawan, and that this is the life I have. But a part of me couldn't help wondering if ... if there's ever going to be something other than this for me."   
  
For a moment, Qui-Gon didn't say anything. Then, "Oh, Obi-Wan." He looked away sharply, struggling to get his emotions under control. Then he surprised the younger man by grabbing hold of his chin and tipping his face up to look at him. Obi-Wan stared up at him with wide eyes.   
  
"I should have made this clear to you before we ever left Coruscant," Qui-Gon said hoarsely. His eyes as they gazed down at Obi-Wan were very blue. "You are not under any obligation to accept an unwelcome touch from anyone, not even me. Not even me," he repeated firmly. "It's true that you are my padawan, but you are also the man that I love. You have value as your own person, no matter what I or anyone else may think of you. And to me you are of infinite worth. If anything were ever to happen to you, it would destroy me."   
  
"You speak as if I am your equal," Obi-Wan breathed, closing his eyes under the heat of the other man's hand.   
  
"As you have always been," Qui-Gon answered. He stroked his thumb heavily along Obi-Wan's jaw, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. "I love you, Obi-Wan. It was never my intention to force you into anything."   
  
Obi-Wan felt tears rise into his eyes. "I know," he whispered, leaning into his master's touch. "You never did. That's what I tried to tell them. I love you, Qui-Gon."   
  
Qui-Gon bent to touch his forehead lightly to Obi-Wan's, closing his eyes on a sigh. "I would have kept you innocent forever, if it were possible," he said, his voice soft and full of regret. "My beautiful Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan trembled, feeling the last of his fears fall away like broken chains around him. He was loved, he was cherished, and there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be this man's padawan. Along with Qui-Gon, he mourned the innocence that he had lost; he had ventured out into the world and come face-to-face with its less savory facets: Ambition. Hate. Lust. Greed. These things were a part of him now, because it was impossible to be touched by such influences and not be changed by them.   
  
*Change is not an easy thing to accomplish, Obi-Wan. Sometimes it comes at great price ... and with much sacrifice.*   
  
A part of him wished that he could return to the chrysalis he had inhabited before coming to Samilia. During his time here, his eyes had been opened to a world that was colder and more fragile than anything he could possibly have imagined. For all the increased possibilities that it offered him, he couldn't help but miss the simple innocence of his childhood.   
  
Once left behind, however, the idealism of youth could never be regained. Obi-Wan acknowledged this, mourned it, and then ... accepted it. When he did so, he was rewarded with a feeling of sweeping euphoria. Strangely enough, his spirit had never felt more free.   
  
Very carefully, Qui-Gon's hand moved under Obi-Wan's arm to help him out of the bathtub. Obi-Wan stepped out of the cooling water gratefully, smiling into his master's eyes as Qui-Gon wrapped him in the supple length of a large towel. Qui-Gon's hands were gentle as they moved over him, drying him with exquisite care.   
  
When he was finished, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan against him and wrapped his arms around the smaller man's body, one hand smoothing restlessly over the towel that covered his back. Obi-Wan felt his master sigh heavily, and something deep within him stirred to life with uncomfortable ease.   
  
Sensing his padawan's sudden discomfort, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan away slightly and looked down seriously into his eyes. "What is troubling you?" he asked.   
  
After a moment, Obi-Wan cleared his throat with a glimmer of residual apprehension. "I don't want to have sex today," he said, with deliberate precision.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled at him. "Then we will not."   
  
Obi-Wan swayed, closing his eyes. Only Qui-Gon's strong hands kept him upright as a tide of awe-tinged relief crashed over him. Those four words were so exquisitely simple, but they meant more to him than the entire world.   
  
Qui-Gon's hands were gentle as they led him back out of the bathing area and into the main bedroom, wrapping the towel carefully around Obi-Wan's body as they went. "If you do not wish to make love, my dear one," he said, insistent in his desire to have Obi-Wan understand, "then we will not. It has always been so between us."   
  
"But we are." Obi-Wan leaned heavily against his master's strong form, fighting against the weariness that enveloped him. He was so unbearably tired; he couldn't even keep his eyes open anymore. Freshly bathed and warmed, and feeling safe for the first time in far too long, the stresses and challenges of his long journey were finally catching up to him.   
  
"I don't understand." Qui-Gon's voice was soft.   
  
Obi-Wan smiled, not opening his eyes. "We make love every moment of every day that we're together. We're making love right now."   
  
Qui-Gon pulled him close in a possessive hug. "I love you, Obi-Wan."   
  
Obi-Wan clung to him tightly. "I love you, Qui-Gon."   
  
He felt Qui-Gon pick him up, the towel sliding away from his quiescent form as he was lifted into the other man's arms, but then the pull of weariness fell irresistibly over him.   
  
He was asleep before his master set him down on the bed.   
  


* * *

  
It was two weeks before they stood together to take their leave of the Samilian palace. After much discussion and capitulation, Talilaeu had agreed to allow the secession of the New Union, under the provision that it would pay tribute to Samilia for a set number of years beyond the founding of its new democracy. The details were lost to Obi-Wan, but he found comfort in the knowledge that Lar Richein and his people had at last found the freedom they so loved.   
  
Qui-Gon's eyes were warm on him as he loaded their luggage into the coach that stood waiting at the head of the palace drive. The spirited black horses that the Jedi Master preferred stamped their hooves and whickered impatiently, eager to be on the road.   
  
Artzen Talilaeu had come out to witness their departure. The New Union representatives, eager to spread the news of their new autonomy, had already left for their home villages. Obi-Wan strongly suspected that they simply did not want to be around him or his master any longer than necessary. It reaffirmed his suspicions that they were well aware of what their leader had done in the name of freedom, although he took care to keep such thoughts to himself.   
  
Qui-Gon accepted the Samilian sovereign's accolades graciously, and Obi-Wan stepped up behind him once he had finished with the baggage. Talilaeu's eyes shone in the bright morning light; obviously, the man believed that his people had come out ahead in the settlement that Qui-Gon had achieved for them. Obi-Wan smiled inwardly as he considered the fact that Lar and his people would doubtlessly feel the same about their own end of the arrangement.   
  
When they had taken their leave of the party that had gathered to see them off, Qui-Gon extended his hand to help Obi-Wan into the coach ahead of him. Obi-Wan caught a sense of strong disapproval in the expressions of the assembled Samilians, and his smile became more evident as he settled onto the seat.   
  
Qui-Gon's eyes were amused as he sat down beside him. "Something amuses you, my padawan?"   
  
Obi-Wan smirked openly. "No, my Master."   
  
Qui-Gon grinned. "Good." With an effort, he pulled the door shut behind him and then tapped the roof to signal the driver that they were ready to depart. "I would hate to think that it surprises you to see me treat you as my lover, instead of my slave."   
  
Obi-Wan felt a surge of warmth move through him. His smirk faded into a contented smile, and he knew that Qui-Gon would be able to read the open adoration in his gaze. "Yes, my Master."   
  
Qui-Gon slid as arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, and Obi-Wan leaned in close against him as the carriage jolted around them. The view outside the windows began to slide smoothly past as the carriage moved forward down the hill.   
  
"I believe I've had enough of Samilia, Master," Obi-Wan said as they passed through the front gates of the palace grounds. His gaze was pensive as he stared out the window across from him.   
  
"So have I, my love." Qui-Gon pulled him even closer and kissed the younger man soundly on the side of the head. Obi-Wan had to suppress the shiver of desire that moved through him at his master's touch.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled against his padawan's hair. "Let's go home."


End file.
